Fruitcake
by DorkDamsel
Summary: Christmas time at a children's hospital where the orphans in the cancer ward get an unexpected visit from a jolly ol' mercenary.


AN: This is a cute lil' Deadpool X-mas story I wrote about 4 years ago and recently uncovered it. It's not terribly good, but it's not terrible either. Merry X-mas everybody!

Disclaimer: Deadpool is not mine. And I'm not his.

* * *

The old battered clock on the wall struck midnight in the cancer ward at the Betsheba Home for Incurable or Cripple children. The nine sleeping children in the room however paid no mind to it since they were sound asleep, save for one little 11 year old girl with moist eyes who was looking at the winter snow storm outside.

Her friends went to sleep with a full stomach and candy wrappers around their beds. These children were not only cancer pacients, but also orphans... so Christmas brought little joy compared to other kids, in happy homes, leading healthy lives. Santa Claus didn't mean anything for them except Steve the male nurse in an old stingy red suit. But as usual... they appreciated the effort. Still, nobody in that room really believed in Santa Claus, or that it if he really existed, he'd care about them. Lest it be a miracle.

A little after midnight, and the girl was still watching the windows next to her cot... when a strange bamf noise caught her attention. She turned in the direction of the sound and saw a tall, wide figure standing in the doorway, face half in shadows. She screamed, waking up all the children with a fright.

"No-no-no-no... chillax kid!" the figure started to mumble as he made his way to the girl. He gently placed a gloved hand on her mouth to stop her from screaming. But by then she woke up the other 8 children in the room, half of which started crying while the other half, braver (or dumber, whichever the case may be) jumped on his back and started kicking him in the shins.

"Let her go!" a little bald boy yelled before taking a big chunk out of the intruder's arm.

"Ow, ow, ow... hey! Don't eat Santa Claus please! I need that arm for my special time... I mean! To carry toys!"

"Santa Claus!?" half the children gasped and realised that the intruder did indeed... have a big belly, big nose, big beard, right outfit, big bag of toys in the corner of the room which he left behind. Oh yes, the big bag definitely caught their attention. And none of it looked fake. He looked just like an old, fat man... who wasn't as jolly as the Coca Cola PR people usually portrayed him but still.

"You're not Santa Claus!" the girl from before said as she got out the bed. "That's impossible. I'm getting somebody..."

"If I was not Santa Claus, the guy said, could I do this?"

He disappeared and reappeared suddenly by the door. He scooped her up just as she was trying to leave.

"Wooooooow!" the children in the room went. "You really are Santa Claus!"

"Don't be stupid!" The little girl shrieked as she was dumped unceremoniously back on her bed.

"He's a freak! You should run before he does something crazy!"

"Crazy like maybe... give you your presents?" Santa Claus smirked.

"You have presents for us?" the boy who bit him from before asked.

"Yeah, I got you a pair of iron jaws but obviously you don't need them" he said rubbing the spot on his arm that sported two perfect sets of 8 year old teeth marks.

"Oh, you're not going to buy this are you?" the girl mocked her roommates.

"Well, he does have magical powers..." the boy noted.

"And toysh!" a little 4 year lispy kid noted.

"Santa already came tonight. He already gave us presents" the girl spat in Santa's face, knowing that her argument was leaky but maybe she'd snap the rest of her friends out of their stupidity trance.

"That waj Shjeve, the male nurshe" the lisp-boy made yet another insightful observation."Look at him, he'j the real thing!"

"You bet I'm the real thing, ol' Craig Kringle himself."

"Don't you mean Kris Kringle?" the girl asked.

"Whatever."

"You are totally a fake!"

"Oh, ye of little faith. What is your name little girl?"

"Aren't you supposed to know that already, Santa creep?"

I just wanted to remind everybody whose fault it will be that all your nice friends don't get their presents tonight."

"NOOO!" the children cried in unison.

"Come on, Beatrice!" The boy with the iron jaws said, grabbing her arm. Soon other kids joined him by her bed, pleading with her not to upset Santa Claus.

"Fine! You idiots... I can't wait to see your faces on milk cartons. But oh wait, I won't. Because nobody will miss you!"

And with that Beatrice, the snarky 11 year old girl, sulked in her bed while Santa Claus handed out gifts for all her friends. They got all sorts of toys and electronics that most children in rich families only dreamt of. They also got iPhones and Wii consoles, japanese robot dogs, and waffle makers and one of those nifty kinds of scales that talks to you.

"You don't want in on this?" Santa Claus asked Beatrice who was still sulking while the kids were practically fainting from excitement.

"They're not going to let us keep your stolen crap you know."

"Check out the potty mouth on you."

"Fu-..."

"Let's keep this clean, kid! This is a PG story!"

"What?"

"Nevermind. Besides, you can relax, it's not stolen. My elves made it."

Beatrice let out a huge snort.

"Yeah right, and your reindeers are parked on the roof right?"

"No reindeers actually. They were farting too much and blowing methane in the atmosphere, so I had to get rid of them and buy a hybrid."

"Will you tell ush a shtory Shanta?" the lispy kid, whose name Santa ascertained was Jeremy, tugged on his tunic to make the request.

"Ok... how about the Nutcracker", Santa replied and picked up Jeremy and placed him on his knee. The rest of the kids came to sit around them.

"Once upon a time... there was this girl called Marie. And she had a very nasty, very annoying brother called Fritz. And one day, Marie got so pissed him with that she kicked him in the nads. And from then on she was called the Nutcracker."

"WAIT! Beatrice yelped. That's so not how the story goes."

"Ohhhh... so you are eavesdropping. I am Santa Claus. I think I'd know a little more about Christmas stories than you."

"Oh yea, what about A Christmas Carol? Do you know that one?"

"Shyeah... clasic poltergeist type situation. You just call the Winchester brothers and problem solved."

"Who are The Three Wise Men?"

"Larry, Curly and Moe."

"How did the girl with matchsticks die?"

"She played that annoying piano song until somebody killed her."

"That's Chopsticks, you idiot!'

"Whatever..."

"UGH!"

Beatrice seemed to give up and slid back under the covers. "Some Santa you are, she grumbled, you're just some freak who came to make fun of the poor little dying orphans"

"Why did you come here?" she got back up and jumped out of the bed. "You don't have a cure for cancer in that bag, do you? No you don't, you have toys. Expensive toys that we're not going to use for very long because we're going to die. That's the truth. Not Santa Claus, not Christmas. We're all going to die You have no idea what we need... you... you have no idea..."

Beatrice stopped when she realised mid-tirade she had started to cry. Santa Claus or rather the man pretending to be Santa Claus watched her without saying a word. Some of the other kids started to cry to and dropped their toys or whatever they were doing at the time alltogether. The man pushed something on his belt and the image of a jolly red fatman disappeared, to be replaced by the image of relatively tall masked man in a strange type of body armor.

"You're only half wrong, honey" he said pulling off his mask to reveal a used to be a normal human face now covered in scars. "I do have some idea."

Other children might have screamed or gasped in fear but not these kids. They didn't get scared, or turn their head in disgust, though the 4 year old boy with a lisp did wonder if other kids knew that Santa Claus was actually an ugly guy in a spandex suit.

"There's a reason I came here to you, and not other kids in this hospital..."

"But we're still going to die" Beatrice added.

"Not necessarily... let me tell you a story. A real story, about a guy named Wade Wilson."

In the following hour Wade told the abridged parentally approved story of a very handsome young man, also very athletic and very popular with the over 18 female population... who happened to get cancer. And in order to get rid of that cancer he had to do some very bad things, and when it happened well.. it had some very bad consequences and led to some other very bad things. But the point is, for this guy anyway, he was trying to make up for it.

When the children were all asleep, Wade and Beatrice tucked them all in.

"So... Beatrice said at the end, before Wade had to leave. You're saying it is possible."

"Yeah, maybe sometime next year they'll say they perfected the process, without the whole pizza face after shock."

"Thanks for this."

"For what?"

"Hope" she said smiling.

"Heh, that's what Christmas is all about. That and fruitcake."


End file.
